


Pride (III)

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bi!Daisy, Bi!Fitz, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Pan!Simmons, Polyamory, Pride, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 10:32:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11206245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: FitzSkimmons prepare for Pride.





	Pride (III)

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff, with a little mild angst (including mild implied past abuse) for the prompts "FitzSkimmons + Trans!Fitz" and "FitzSkimmons + Pride." With a special shoutout to my closeted LGBT+ folks this Pride.

“Babe, do me?”

Shaking her hair out of the way, Jemma held her face out to Daisy, who had just popped the cap off a stick of blue face paint. Daisy crooked a finger under her chin, to hold Jemma in place as she drew a line of blue across each cheek. 

“Pink’s on the dresser,” she said. “Oh, man! I didn’t get a yellow one.” 

Jemma shrugged. “It wouldn’t show up on my skin anyway. Plus I think the shirt has me covered on that front.” 

“That is generally the point of a shirt,” Daisy agreed, and Jemma rolled her eyes. After a bit of a laugh, Daisy realised the third voice had disappeared from their conversation. She looked around, frowning in confusion. 

“Where’d Fitz go?” she wondered. Jemma checked too, and sighed. 

“The bathroom, probably,” she said. “He gets nervous around Pride sometimes. He’ll be back, he just needs some time to himself, I think.” 

Daisy nodded, mostly to herself; trying not to pry as she turned back to the mirror, pink facepaint in hand. She drew the lines slowly, more carefully than she had the blue, thinking. Her mind was already prodding at questions, and though she knew she shouldn’t pry, Jemma must have sensed it. 

“He just has some things on his mind, that’s all,” she said. 

“What… kinds of things?” Daisy asked, reluctant. Jemma’s face confirmed it was exactly the kinds of things she was expecting. _Those_ kinds of things, the _phobic_ kinds of things. _His dad_ kinds of things, probably. 

“Right, got it,” she said, waving off anything more that Jemma might try to say. “Forget I asked. Pass me the lipstick.” 

“No, it’s-“ 

“I said I don’t-“

The door swung open and Fitz stepped in, and Daisy and Jemma fell silent before they could catch themselves. Fitz smiled uncertainly. 

“You two talking about me?” he wondered, glancing between them. 

“Fitz, I-“ 

“Daisy just wanted to know if you were alright.” 

“- didn’t mean to dig into anything and Jemma didn’t tell me-“ 

He held up his hands. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “And actually – _that_ – is… something that I wanted to talk to you about. Well, Daisy, technically. Jemma already knows. Sorry.” 

Daisy glanced at Jemma for a moment. She was smiling a little, and sad a little, and Daisy couldn’t quite figure out where to place it from this angle. She turned back to Fitz instead, and suddenly it seemed irrelevant that the half a pink streak on her face was going to dry funny. She put the facepaint down. 

“This looks like a sit-down conversation,” she said. Fitz laughed a little, and shrugged, but hid his face, in that way he did when he was trying to shake her off his tail. Daisy found the corner of a counter and sat, and Jemma hovered a little closer to Fitz. Daisy narrowed her eyes.

“Are you… coming out to me?” she wondered, as jovially as possible. It was getting a little too heavy for her liking in here and she was dressed as 80s as possible for maximum… not this. She found herself smiling uncertainly, tossing a joke out in the hopes that it landed as she pointed over to the dresser. “I mean, I already know, dude. I brought facepaint.”

“Um, yeah,” Fitz said. “I guess I am coming out to you, but not about that. Does… does the name Bridget sound familiar to you?” 

Daisy shook her head. “Only in the ‘Jones’ Diary’ sense of the word.” 

“What about Bridget Aileen Fitz?”

Daisy narrowed her eyes, as confused as she was sure that the name did ring a bell after all. Was it just the ‘Fitz,’ so familiar it was tricking her? No, she knew that name. She remembered that name. From _somewhere._

“You might remember it from just after the Fall of Shield,” Fitz prompted her. “When you were scrubbing us from the internet.” 

“Yeah,” Daisy agreed. “That must be it. I just assumed she was like, your sister or something… but… I’m getting the impression that’s not the case, right?”

Jemma slipped her hand into Fitz’s, and he took a deep, harrowed breath. 

“She’s me,” Fitz said. “I’m… yeah. Sorry for being so dramatic about it, I – I find it hard to think about back then. But yeah. That’s the long and short of it, really.” 

Daisy waited for her brain to sort out what it had just been told. It wasn’t that it didn’t make sense, it was just that she hadn’t been expecting her brain to comprehend and respond as quickly as it did. It took what she knew about Fitz, and flipped it upside-down and back upright again before she could be fully aware of how it had transformed. Fitz, who had always been Fitz, but had once been Bridget. 

“Huh,” Daisy mused. “Alright. So you’re trans.” 

“But please don’t tell anyone,” Fitz implored her, with a desperation that stung all of a sudden. “It’s just… part of my life I like to keep to myself. Please, Daisy. No jokes about it. No winky faces. Not a word about it, unless it’s just us. _Please.”_  

“Sure! Of course,” Daisy insisted, her mind reaching for how she could better instill the promise in him, and at the same time, flooding with questions. “I guess I just don’t understand why you’re so closeted about it? Everyone here would be cool with it. They’re good people.”

“I know that,” Fitz said. “I’m not trying to sound distrustful, or like I’m not proud of who I am. Lord knows what I’ve been through to get here. But – it’s just – it’s me, I guess. All I wanted was to get here and be normal, and now I am, and I don’t want to go back, I don’t want to think about it. I’m just me. I’m happy to be out and proud and bi as hell, but this… Bridget… it’s just for me. I just want it to be for me. Okay?” 

“All you’ve ever got to do is ask,” Daisy assured him and, seeing that he was still shaken, swept him up in her arms as she stood, and rested her cheek against his chest. “In all seriousness though. Your journey is yours, and you don’t have to share it with anyone if you don’t want to.” 

“I wanted to share it with you,” Fitz promised. 

“Good.” 

At this, Daisy finally let him go. She smiled softly at first, and then with a sparkle of mischevious energy. She glanced at Jemma, and saw the same sparkle, over a smug smile, proud that she’d picked good people. She picked the pink facepaint up off the dresser and tossed it to Daisy, who seamlessly caught it, and Fitz found himself stuck between the two of them. He gaped at Jemma, scandalised. She shrugged, as if the situation was out of her control. 

“Well, it’s not a song and dance?” she offered hopefully. 

Daisy grinned, and popped the cap. 


End file.
